


the stupid pebble

by KathKnight



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AO3 Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, January Challenge in June, Like Xmas in July, moral support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 05:55:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19101058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KathKnight/pseuds/KathKnight
Summary: Having argued for his right to undertake the Trials of Knighthood, padawan Ben Solo learns that Master Skywalker has no intention of making it easy.Set prior to the events of Episode VII: The Force Awakens.





	the stupid pebble

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Carrochan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carrochan/gifts).



> Many thanks to Carrochan and everyone else in our wonderful writers' group for your story-crafting tips, help with linguistics/dialects and obscure canon questions, and tireless moral support. I would have thrown in the towel long ago if not for you guys.

 

 

 

The Trial of Skill that Skywalker selects for his nephew is as hard-hearted and sadistic as those enforced in the days of the old Order. Padawans’ shells harden or they fracture, he decrees.

  


For two nights and one day, Ben must handbalance one-armed while suspending a single stone at eye level. Not physically taxing, provided he opens himself completely to the Force. His eyes flick skyward while he narrates Ben’s challenge, toward the grey clouds billowing in from the west.

  


No sooner has Skywalker left him halfway up the hillside than a streak of silver splits the heavens and the downpour begins.

  


On the first night, their settlement is whipped by an electrical storm. Thunder rolls out from the blackened sky, permeating the air every bit as much as the rain and intermittent spates of hail. Biting winds howl through the commune with brutal force, scattering dried leaves and banging doors in a chaotic drumbeat. They batter his inverted figure and tear at his already-saturated clothes.

  


Ben shivers in the darkness, teeth chattering while freezing rain and perspiration trickle into his eyes. His sodden tunic creeps up his chest, exposing bare skin to the pelleting hailstones. _Focus, sleemo! Focus!_ In the distance, the huts creak and groan as if some tempestuous night spirit sought to destroy them completely.

  


But the rock holds steady.

  


If it falls – or if _he_ falls - Skywalker will know. He won’t give him that satisfaction. 

  


At sunrise, the deluge finally abates. By then his muscles are screaming, anguish twisting his stomach, skin numbed to the cold. Through near-exhaustion and scrambled logic, some vestigial part of his brain reminds him: twenty-four standard hours remain. It’s beyond endurance. This is the old man’s special kind of torture.

  


Trembling, he glowers at the pebble and gathers whatever scraps of courage he can muster for the impossible stretch ahead. He doesn’t see the first rays of sunlight spill over the horizon, bringing much-needed heat. Not the myriad colours that streak the sky, nor the birds emerging from their roosts to warble a morning melody, nor the viscous clay squelching beneath approaching boots.

  


Just the rock.

  


He _won’t_ let this defeat him. 

  


“ _Chuba, nerra!”_ Muddy footfalls come nearer, then stop.

  


Gritting his teeth, he grapples to feel the Force flow through him and not the lactic acid broiling his forearm.

  


“Oh Mother of Melan, Ben, you look godawful,” she chirps.

  


Of course it’s Kira, as obnoxiously chipper as always. Her earth-toned robes and nest of frizzy black hair are out of focus behind the stone.

  


_Leave me alone,_ he shoots back - but if she registers anything, she chooses to ignore it. 

  


Squatting before his point of focus, she cocks her head and lifts a finger to poke at it. “I snuck out,” she admits.

  


“Touch that and I’ll end you.”

  


“Seriously, is this it? I was sure he’d give you something heavier. A starfighter, at least.”

  


Ben throws her an incredulous glance and she sniggers.

  


“Yeah, ‘cause this is so kriffing easy,” he snarks. “I’ll be sure to raise that point with the master when it’s your turn. What are you doing here?”

  


“I brought chicken soup. Homemade. Thought it might warm you up.”

  


His already-tenuous balance sways from the vertical. “Go away.”

  


“You’ve gotta be hungry after doing this ridiculous -” she flaps a hand vaguely in his direction - “acrobatic thingy all night. And you’re damn well gonna return the favour when it’s my turn, I’ll have you know. There’s nothing in the Trials about fasting.”

  


“Skywalker sent you,” he grumbles.

  


“Did not.”

  


“He sent you to distract me. So I’ll fail.”

  


“Bantha crap.” Kira gives a dramatic eyeroll. “We’re under strict instruction to keep away. But… well, the Trials don’t say anything about isolation either.” Reaching into her satchel, she produces a large thermajug and a spoon. “Daresay a little moral support wouldn’t go astray. Besides, I made _wayyy_ too much of this stuff and ol’ garbage-guts hates chicken.”

  


“Did Byt ask you to come?”

  


“Nope. He’s out like a light. None of us slept much, what with the hailstorm and all. We were worried about you. ‘cept for that self-obsessed harpy, whining nonstop about her shiner.”

  


“I take it the Rammahgon translation is going well, then.” 

  


She pooches a lip in indignation. “It was totally worth it.” 

  


“ _Kira.”_

  


“Shut up and eat your soup.”

  


“Thank you, but how am I supposed to do that?” Pointedly, he wiggles the fingers on his free arm, outstretched from the shoulder.

  


“Use the Force, Boy Wonder.”

  


“That’s not how the Force works!”

  


Her sunny giggle is so contagious, Ben struggles again not to topple over. “Kidding! Just kidding. I’ll feed you, ‘kay? You just, uh… stay put.”

  


“But – the stupid pebble -”

  


“The Force isn’t about lifting rocks.”

  


He barks out a laugh. Of all people, she _would_ mock-quote Skywalker to his disfavoured nephew. But it’s a moot point, because she’s already assembling a cairn underneath Ben’s charge; when her rockpile is finished, she beams down triumphantly.

  


“Happy now? Master needn’t know, and technically you haven’t cheated. You’re still all upside-down-like and the stupid pebble is still up.” Arranging herself cross-legged in front of him, she unscrews the thermajug lid. “Now, eat your crinking soup.”

  


Kira is so ferociously proud of her cooking, he doesn’t have the heart to refuse. Its rich aroma makes him salivate.

  


“ _Arni’soyacho, numa.”_

  


“Don’t mention it, big brother.” She dunks the spoon and grins archly. “I’m always right here.” 

  


Swallowing while inverted is difficult. Trying not to choke, or shoot soup out of his nostrils each time she makes him laugh, is even harder. As slow and messy a process as it proves, he slurps ravenously from the spoon as best he can. Her unctuous broth is succulent and warms every part of him, from the inside out.

  


Even though they see each other day-in, day-out, when the thermajug is empty and his stomach is full, Kira lags behind to meditate. He doesn’t know for how long, but when he finally opens his eyes the cairn has been disassembled, she is nowhere to be seen, and the pebble remains, suspended mid-air.

  


There is no fine whiskey or triumph in battle, none among the Grand Masters celebrated on pedestals, that can match the smallest speck of joy that is a friend.

  


Time passes in absolute stillness. Ben watches the land spread out in a blaze of sunlit glory and feels midi-chlorians rambling through the soil beneath his splayed fingers, tranquil and content. After the sun reaches its zenith in the sky, shadows slowly stretch across the landscape. At twilight, there’s only the ebb and flow of power from the forest, newly rejuvenated by the rain, and when Skywalker finally trudges up the hill to rouse him, it feels like no time has elapsed at all.

  


He passes the second Trial.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt (flashback) from HG Chapter 28, which will be up Saturday. The full chapter is extremely E-rated... I plan on hiding under the bed for quite a while after posting XD
> 
>  **Bothese Translation:**  
>  _Melan_ = Moons
> 
>  **Huttese Translation:**  
>  _sleemo_ = slime  
>   
>  **Twi'leki/Ryl Translations:**  
>  _nerra_ = brother  
>  _numa_ = sister  
>  _Arni’soyacho_ = Thank you  
>  _Chuba_ = Hey


End file.
